


i am a fire, you're gasoline (come pour yourself all over me)

by chasingredballoons



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, takes place at some vague point between ep16 and ep17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingredballoons/pseuds/chasingredballoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a couple days — of Carmilla strutting around half-naked, of Carmilla finding every excuse to invade her personal space and touch her, of Carmilla and those goddamn suspenders — but eventually Laura reaches her breaking point. So she decides to take matters into her own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am a fire, you're gasoline (come pour yourself all over me)

**Author's Note:**

> ik everyone's been clamouring for rough, angry, breaking-the-furniture-and-scarring-laf-perry-and-jp-for-life sex buuuut this happened instead. also this completely ignores laura's tweet about how she's the one on the couch.  
> title from stay the night by zedd & [you can follow me on tumblr here](http://baumanelises.tumblr.com)

When Laura gets back to the apartment after a  _very_  long evening of research and Charter paperwork, she breathes a sigh of relief when her ears aren’t immediately assaulted by loud, blood-drunken cackling as her unwanted and undead housemates reminisce about  _Saigon_.

(And really, if Laura never hears that word again in her life, it will be too soon. She doesn't know what happened in Saigon but come on, it can't have been  _that_  memorable.)

Hopefully the lack of noise means Mattie has left for the night and gone back to whatever suitably evil lair on the Silas campus she’s set up camp in, and Carmilla is passed out on the sofa, so Laura doesn't have to deal with either of them.

She gets that it’s Carmilla’s house and everything, and that Mattie technically has every right to be there — they even stay on their side of the caution tape, which for some bizarre reason actually makes Laura feel a tiny bit safer — but still.

_Mattie’s. Always. There._

A constant, loud, messy and vaguely threatening presence, leaving bloodstained martini glasses and empty chocolate wrappers lying around — Carmilla and Mattie might not be blood related but clearly messiness is vampirically genetic — or talking about  _the good old days when her favourite little monster wasn’t weighed down by frivolous loyalties to insignificant humans_  loud enough for Laura to hear, or staring at Laura like she’s wondering the best way to season her before serving her as an appetizer.

That last one is probably the most unsettling, and only ever happens when Carmilla’s out of the room, refilling their glasses with more blood. Laura’s still alive a week after Carmilla broke her heart so she likes to think that Carmilla’s managed to talk Mattie out of murdering her, but that doesn’t exactly placate her when she can feel Mattie’s stare burning into the back of her head, or catches the occasional glimpse of fangs in the webcam.

Although as terrifying and annoying as Mattie is, Laura actually prefers Carmilla when Mattie is around. At least that means Carmilla’s attention is on her sister and not on Laura. If Mattie’s distracting Carmilla with an argument about who could disembowel someone quicker, it means Carmilla isn’t spending her time strutting around half-naked in that stupid red bathrobe, or pretending to read while occasionally shooting snarky comments towards Laura and Danny — she would inform Carmilla that there is nothing going on with her and Danny but it’s not like Carmilla would care, and also she doesn’t really deserve to have her blatantly obvious fears of Laura running back to Danny assuaged — or getting changed in the middle of the living room and taking her time picking out which black shirt to pull on over her see through lace underwear.

Which Laura absolutely does not stare at ever under any circumstances.

Laura doesn’t know if the lack of clothes and the increase in snide comments is Carmilla trying to goad her into an argument, or sex, or both, but she hates that it’s working. That she can feel her self control crumbling down tiny piece by tiny piece each time Carmilla comes strolling into the room wearing those goddamn suspenders.

She throws herself into the Silas Charter work to distract herself from her half-naked ex-girlfriend lounging around temptingly, spending as much time as she can helping Danny with all the paperwork — which has the added bonus of pissing Carmilla off even more; for someone who claims not to care about Laura anymore she sure seems to care an awful lot about who Laura spends her time with — or helping LaFontaine adjust JP to the 21st Century, or helping Perry with baking, and shoving every single thought relating to Carmilla down and away from the forefront of her mind.

After that incident with the cereal — and seriously,  _Carmilla_  broke up with  _her_ , she shouldn’t get to go around shoving her chest in Laura’s face; she feels shitty enough already, she doesn’t need Carmilla flaunting constant reminders of what she doesn’t have anymore — Laura’s petty side managed to overwhelm the sensible side of her conscience telling her to be the bigger person, so she started giving Carmilla a taste of her own medicine. Not by parading around the apartment wearing hardly anything, that’s more Carmilla’s style, and she gets the impression LaFontaine, JP and Perry wouldn’t appreciate living with  _two_  semi-regular-nudists, but little things that she knows will get to Carmilla.

She takes to wearing her hair up, making sure as much of her neck is on display as possible. Intentionally leaves the bedroom door ajar and stands where she knows Carmilla will be able to see her while she’s getting changed. Deliberately wears the tightest jeans she owns and takes her time walking away from wherever Carmilla’s sprawled out with some pretentious and depressing looking book. Doing everything she can to drive Carmilla just as insane as Carmilla’s driving her.

In retrospect, she should’ve known Carmilla would take her actions as some kind of declaration of war, and would retaliate harder.

The five of them — Laura, Danny, Perry, JP and LaFontaine — have been working non-stop with Vordenberg to prepare for the board’s vote in a couple days, and had relocated earlier in the evening to the Summer Society house when the noise emanating from the other room got unbearable. Now, it’s just past midnight and Laura’s exhausted. Carmilla woke her up the previous night around four am, stumbling back in from another vampire night out with Mattie, still drunk on a potent mix of blood and alcohol, knocking into seemingly every piece of furniture while singing to herself, before finally passing out on the sofa.

Carmilla and Mattie are nowhere to be seen, so Laura assumes that they've gone out to lurk in the shadows ominously or terrorise some unlucky students or whatever vampires get up to on their undead nights out.

LaFontaine and JP disappear off upstairs after saying goodnight and giving Laura a sympathetic look at the mess Carmilla and Mattie left the living room in, while Laura takes one look at the destruction, decides to leave dealing with it until tomorrow, and pushes through the green curtain into their—  _her_  bedroom. She grabs a towel, intending to have a quick shower before going to sleep and hopefully not being woken up by Carmilla later, and heads towards the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom door is made of thick, apparently soundproof wood, and the door is unlocked, so Laura doesn’t realise it’s already occupied until she walks in and is immediately engulfed in steam from the shower. She blinks in confusion through the steam, before she catches sight of the very naked, very wet person occupying the shower, and her mind promptly screeches to a halt at the sight of inch after inch of pale wet skin.

Of course, of all the however many bathrooms there are in this gigantic mansion, Carmilla absolutely  _had_  to use this one.

Carmilla glances over her shoulder at the noise of the door opening, and her mouth curls into a smirk as she sees Laura gaping like a fool. “Hey poptart,” she purrs, and that’s another blow to her self control.

Seeing Carmilla wandering around half-naked in that dumb bathrobe is one thing, Laura can (just) resist the temptation to throw herself at Carmilla then, but seeing her dripping wet and knowing she’s completely naked only a few feet away is a different story.

Laura knows she should leave. Stutter out an apology for interrupting even though she knows Carmilla would never do the same for her, turn around and exit the room. She absolutely should not stand stock still while she stares at Carmilla and debates the pros and cons of showering with her ex.

Carmilla chuckles when the only noise Laura manages to make is a strangled squeak, but before Laura shake herself out of her Carmilla-haze and flee the room, Carmilla slowly turns around to face her, and she finds herself pinned in place by those damn seduction eyes.

Laura’s never been so thankful for frosted glass in her life, because it means all she can really see of Carmilla from her shoulders down is a fuzzy silhouette. She’s not sure she’d be able to restrain herself if she could actually see all of Carmilla. Of course, her traitorous imagination immediately rushes to fill in the blanks, and promptly conjures up all the memories of Carmilla naked. Which aren’t really conducive to Laura’s plans of getting the hell out of the bathroom as fast as possible.

Carmilla steps out of the spray slightly, pushing her wet hair off her face and cocking her head to the side while she regards Laura with a feral grin. “Aw, you brought me a towel? Thanks sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.”

She hates the way sweetheart sounds now. It was one of the nicknames Carmilla still used during their brief attempt at a relationship, so having it go back to being used mockingly and condescendingly while accompanied by a derisive sneer, after hearing it whispered affectionately amidst other sweet nothings during post-sex cuddling, hurts a lot more than Laura is comfortable admitting.

Laura zeroes in on a drop of water trickling slowly down the length of Carmilla’s neck, across her collarbone and then disappearing behind the frosted glass towards her chest, and she’s too busy imagining trailing her tongue along the same path the water droplet took that she barely hears Carmilla’s next words.

“You know there’s plenty of room in here,” she says, her voice heavy with implication. “So if you were planning on showering, feel free to join me. I don’t mind sharing.”

The wolfish smirk on Carmilla’s face widens when Laura involuntarily takes a step forward, and the sudden realisation hits her that this was planned. Carmilla picked this bathroom specifically, and deliberately waited until Mattie was gone and Laura was back, before putting her evil wet and naked plan into motion.

Laura wants to. She wants to join Carmilla in the shower, pin her against the wall and make her fall apart, but she can’t. It’s a terrible idea. They broke up for a reason.  _Carmilla_  broke up with  _her_  for a reason.

It takes every ounce of self-control she has, but Laura manages to school her expression from open-mouthed leering into a pissed off glare, and she spins around and storms out of the bathroom before she ends up doing something she regrets, ignoring the faint sound of Carmilla's chuckling echoing around the bathroom.

/

Laura escapes to one of the bathrooms on the second floor to shower there instead. She only just manages to resist the urge to touch herself, and instead she stands under the cold spray of the shower until the ache between her thighs subsides enough that she can ignore it.

/

It was so much easier to ignore her feelings for Carmilla before they were together. But now that she’s had Carmilla in every sense of the word, it’s ten times worse. Now that she knows what it’s like to fall asleep in Carmilla’s arms to the faint sound of her heartbeat, what it’s like having Carmilla stare openly at her like she’s the only person in the world, what Carmilla sounds, feels, tastes like falling apart on her tongue, it’s proving more difficult that she thought it would be to forget all of that.

It’s also easier to ignore how much she misses Carmilla during the day, when her general feeling towards her obnoxious ex and her ex’s equally obnoxious sister is just annoyance, and when she can distract herself with research and paperwork. But at night there’s nothing to distract her from how big and empty the bed feels without Carmilla there.

It’s nearly three am, she’s been tossing and turning and counting sheep for almost three hours but she still can’t sleep. Every time she closes her eyes she sees Carmilla — Carmilla in the shower, Carmilla wandering around in those damn suspenders that all Laura wants to do with them is use them to pull Carmilla towards her, Carmilla with her bloodstained mouth, that Laura didn’t actually hate as much as she pretended, asking her if she really thinks some flimsy caution tape is going to stop Laura from thinking about her.

Laura groans, and pushes her face into her pillow in an attempt to physically push the thoughts of Carmilla out of her head.  _You don’t care about her anymore_ , she tells herself, hoping the mantra she’s told herself each morning since she had her heart broken will chase away how much she wants Carmilla.  _You don’t care about her, and she doesn’t care about you_.

Eventually, she realises the mantra is not helping in the slightest, and she concedes that the dull ache between her legs that’s been present since she walked in on Carmilla is not going to go away by sheer willpower. She glances at the closed bedroom door.  _Everyone’s asleep_ , she rationalises with herself,  _no one would ever know_. She debates with herself for a few more minutes — somehow the idea of getting herself off to thoughts of her ex would be admitting defeat to Carmilla, which is the last thing she wants to do — before she gives in and slowly drags her hand down her body and slides it into her shorts.

It’s easy to imagine Carmilla’s with her, to conjure up a fantasy of her solid weight pressing Laura into the mattress, her fingertips skimming along the inside of Laura’s thighs while her mouth closes around Laura’s nipples. Her eyes flutter shut and her breath hitches when she presses her fingers against her clit, rubbing slow lazy circles over her underwear.

When that isn't enough anymore, she slips her hand into her underwear, her hips twitching up as she exhales a quiet whimper when her fingers are immediately met with wet heat. She thinks of Carmilla while she slowly drags her fingers against her sensitive flesh, pretending it’s Carmilla’s fingers brushing against her clit just enough to send constant sparks of heat through her.

She breathes out Carmilla’s name involuntarily when she slides her fingers slightly harder against her clit, and it’s accompanied by a sharp inhale that definitely did  _not_  come from her.

She has no idea if Carmilla smoke-teleported her way in or if she just failed to notice the door opening and shutting, but when she blinks her eyes open at the noise, Carmilla’s there, leaning against the closed door a few feet from the foot of the bed, silently watching her.

For whatever reason that she decides not to analyse now, Laura doesn't scream, or hide under the blankets in humiliation, or yell at Carmilla to get out, or any other normal reaction one should have to your ex-girlfriend apparating into your room. She figures she should be more mortified at being caught masturbating, by her ex-girlfriend nonetheless, but then she realises the advantage she has. Carmilla doesn’t have the default malicious sneer on her face that Laura is now used to seeing. Instead, she’s staring at Laura with a hungry, slightly helpless expression that’s a stark contrast from the callous apathetic Carmilla she’s been forced to put up with over the past week.

Laura pulls her hands out of her shorts and props herself up on her elbows, refusing to be the one to look away first and break the intense staring match. The blanket shifts down to her waist as she moves and she takes a moment to feel smug when Carmilla’s gaze drops to stare at the way Laura’s nipples strain through the thin fabric of her tank top.

"Oh, don't stop on my account, princess," Carmilla murmurs, her voice low as she pushes off the door and takes a step towards the bed.

“Carm—” the nickname slips out unintentionally. “What are you doing here?”

Carmilla takes another step forward, and Laura catches sight of a flash of white. Her fangs are out, glinting in the moonlight coming in through the window, and she isn’t bothering to try and hide them as she slinks towards the bed. Laura isn't sure what it says about her that the sight of them sends another flash of heat through her.

"Is this your way of getting back at me? Your idea of revenge?" Carmilla asks, ignoring the question. “Touching yourself when you know I would be able to hear you?”

Laura knows that deep down, some tiny extremely petty part of her wanted Carmilla to hear her, but she’s not going to admit that.

“You’re here aren’t you?” Laura shoots back. “So if it was revenge, clearly it worked.”

Carmilla’s eyes narrow as she reaches the foot of the bed, and Laura shivers as Carmilla’s heated stare turns even more predatory. She isn’t entirely sure if Carmilla’s about to bite her or fuck her or leave the room. She’s also not sure what option she’d prefer. Silently, Carmilla climbs onto the bed, prowling on all fours slowly up Laura’s body, and Laura bites her lip hard to stop herself from whimpering when Carmilla’s hands land on her thighs, pushing them further apart so she can settle between them.

Laura lays back against the pillows, acutely aware of how wide her legs are spread so as to accommodate Carmilla’s body and that the throbbing between her thighs has increased tenfold at Carmilla’s close proximity. Carmilla's bottom lip is pulled between her teeth and her pupils are completely blown out as she stares hungrily down at Laura, and despite what a terrible idea it is, despite the fact they aren’t together anymore, despite the fact Carmilla has been a complete douche all week, all Laura wants to do is drag Carmilla’s hand between her legs and beg her to fuck her.

“I meant what I said,” Carmilla murmurs, her eyebrows raising in challenge. “Don’t let me stop you from continuing.”

Laura wants nothing more than to slide her hand back into her shorts and really show Carmilla what she gave up, but there’s still a tiny little rational part of her brain that isn’t being drowned out by lust yelling about what a terrible idea this is and how much they’ll regret doing...whatever this is, in the morning.

“Sex isn’t going to solve anything,” Laura whispers, as if speaking any louder will pop the bubble they’re in, and Carmilla will realise what she’s doing and storm back out of the room while tossing several snide remarks over her shoulder.

“I know,” Carmilla says after a few long moments, and Laura isn’t sure if she’s imagining the note of sadness in her voice. “But it’s just one night. I miss you.”

Laura kind of wants to scream in Carmilla's face  _you ended this Carmilla, so you don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that broke my heart_ , almost in the hope that she’ll get some kind of reaction that’ll tell her if Carmilla’s hurting just as much as she is. But before she can, Carmilla’s lips curve into a rakish, fanged smile, and Laura forgets how to breathe when Carmilla ducks her head and brushes her lips against Laura’s pulse.

“And I know you miss me too, cupcake,” Carmilla purrs, changing the mood instantly. “You can pretend to be disaffected by my  _relationship to clothes, or lack thereof_  all you want, but I can hear the way your heartbeat speeds up when you look at me. I can smell how much you still want me, even when you’re claiming you want nothing to do with me.”

Another disadvantage to dating a vampire, Laura supposes.

Carmilla's mouth closes over her pulse point, sucking gently, and the arousal overrides the rational part of her brain, and this time Laura doesn’t resist when Carmilla’s fingers wrap around her wrist and guide her hand back between her spread thighs.

"What were you thinking about?" Carmilla murmurs.

"You," Laura sighs, pushing her hands into her shorts and underwear and immediately stroking her fingers over her clit. "Always you."

Carmilla groans, nuzzling further into Laura's neck and she whimpers at the scrape of fangs across her pulse. She circles the pads of her fingers over her clit a few more times, before pushing a finger inside herself, arching up and grinding against her palm. She closes her eyes, pretending it’s Carmilla’s fingers inside her, Carmilla’s palm pressing against her clit, Carmilla’s hands and mouth taking her apart piece by piece. She feels Carmilla shift on top of her, before she hears Carmilla moan out her name, and when Laura opens her eyes she glances down to see Carmilla’s hand moving underneath the fabric of her own pants.

“ _God_ ,” Laura groans at the sight, dragging her gaze up to watch Carmilla’s face. Her eyes are unfocused and glassy, her lips are slightly parted, her fangs peeking out from behind her top lip, and she’s making the hottest little gasps and whimpers as she touches herself.

Laura slides a second finger inside herself and doesn’t bother trying to stifle the low groan of pleasure. Carmilla whines quietly, dropping her head and pressing her face into Laura’s neck, and Laura feels her fingers speed up, the back of Carmilla’s knuckles bumping against her own through the fabric of her shorts and Carmilla’s pants.

She pumps her fingers harder, twisting and curling them while she bucks her hips up to meet her thrusts, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her clit against her palm until she comes with a desperate moan. She vaguely registers Carmilla following her over the edge, her body shaking and shuddering on top of Laura and her moaning muffled by Laura’s neck.

Pulling her hand out of her shorts and wiping it on her thigh, Laura sinks back into the pillows, finally sated after a week of Carmilla’s torturous teasing. Idly, she wonders how big a mistake she just made. She’s not exactly an expert in this department, but she’s fairly certain engaging in sexual activities with your ex-girlfriend is a stupid thing to do.

(She couldn’t help it though. She might put up the  _I don’t care I’m totally over you_  facade during the day, but she misses Carmilla. She hates that she misses her even after how much of a jerk Carmilla’s been the past week, but she does.)

She fully expects Carmilla to clamber off the bed and exit the room as quickly as possible now that Carmilla’s succeeded in her weird seduction plan, but she’s too exhausted to be surprised or make a big deal out of it when instead she feels Carmilla’s soft familiar warmth pressing against her side.

 _It’s just one night_ , she tells herself,  _we can cuddle for one night_.

Carmilla freezes with her arm halfway around Laura’s waist. “Is this okay? I can leave if you want.”

Laura steadfastly ignores how that’s something girlfriend-Carmilla would ask her, not ex-girlfriend-Carmilla. She should tell Carmilla to go. She knows this probably meant nothing to Carmilla, and it’s not going to have made a single difference in their tattered remains of a relationship. But for once, Laura lets herself be selfish. It’s probably going to hurt in the cold light of day, but if she only gets one more night with Carmilla then she wants to make it count.

“No,” Laura murmurs, pulling Carmilla’s arm the rest of the way around her waist, and pressing closer until she’s tucked into Carmilla’s chest. “No I want you to stay. It's just one night, right?"

Carmilla mumbles an agreement, and Laura inhales Carmilla’s familiar scent, cuddles further into Carmilla’s familiar embrace. It's just one night. One last night where she can pretend she didn't screw up the best thing that ever happened to her.

(When she wakes up in the morning, the sheets next to her are cold, and she’s alone.)


End file.
